He trembles under Q's touch. There's too many times he's been told just that - enough that he's come to believe it. And it's clear enough that Q's fared better, hasn't let it hit him as deeply as it did for him. He wasn't capable of ignoring it any longer-
The moment his lips touch him for the second time, he thinks can almost touch upon Q's brilliance. He doesn't understand it however, because there's too many decades in between them and the world keeps on spinning, changing with every turn, every sunrise and sunset. It's the same divide he's sensed in Rufus - and he might never ever catch up, no matter how fast he tries to run.
And that maybe, he doesn't want to.
Because this is Q. He'll learn eventually. Let his soul catch up.
His hand reaches up to touch his hair. And it's like touching a mirror image of himself, different in the smallest of places because their lives were different - a pure form of narcissism that nobody could possible frown on. Or so he hopes.